It has been over a month since I started making my first post on this blog and I didn’t have much progress, this is just my second post! I was not able to write posts because of the hectic schedule in school. Damn, I never thought summer classes would be this difficult! All those three subjects I enrolled drained my brains off!
Summer classes start from Tuesday to Friday, spending our whole six weeks which we should be spending on beaches, travels, or in the comforts of our home. But instead, we dig our noses in our notes, listen to boring lectures, and watch films we’re not even interested to watch for two and a half hours per subject. The complete names of the subjects are Introduction to Stylistics, Teaching of Literature, and Politics and Governance.
We start our classes at 7 in the morning. And the perfect way to ruin our mornings? Stylistics.
According to Wikipedia, stylistics is the study of varieties of language whose properties position that language in context. That’s what our professor also taught us. To put it simply, we studied language based on its meaning, on what it’s trying to tell. But we really didn’t give a damn on its definition. All we understood is that we have to analyze poems. Dissect poems. Interpret poems. Lots of poems. SWARMS of poems. ee cummings’ poems. And other ee cummings-ish poems. Out-of-this world poems. Poems-that-will-make-you-want-to-kill-yourself-when-you-read-them poems.
Take a look at this:
Me up at does
out of the floor
quietly Stare
a poisoned mouse
still who alive
is asking What
have i done that
You wouldn't have
And how about this:
r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r
who
a)s w(e loo)k
upnowgath
PPEGORHRASS
eringint(o-
aThe):l
eA
!p:
S a
(r
rIvInG .gRrEaPsPhOs)
to
rea(be)rran(com)gi(e)ngly
,grasshopper;
Cool, huh? Don’t get me wrong, but I don’t hate these poems. I really love poems like these. Mind-boggling and artistic at the same time. But these poems made me hate my professor…
I hate her… No, I don’t hate her… I honestly admire her as a teacher; young, knows how and what to teach, makes sure her students understand her lessons… But I hate her mind… I hate how her mind came up with all those ideas! It’s just that our interpretations never meet. She always thinks that her interpretations are the right ones. It’s like “No, that’s not how I see it so you’ll get zero for that.” Lame. We spent all night typing and thinking of meanings, I even consulted genius poet friends for their interpretations, and she wouldn’t even care to examine if our answers were right. As a result, some of us failed; the rest of us NEARLY failed (but it’s okay since she provided us easier make-up exams so that we can catch up).
No one should ever expect that one person’s interpretation would match others. I hope she’ll realize that. She’s the one who told us that every interpretation is different from another. She should have at least gave good grades to those who showed their original ideas, to those whose ideas have proofs and bases, and to those who spent sleepless nights figuring the hell those poems supposed to mean.
I’m still happy though, because I passed that subject. I think I had the second highest grade for that. Hehe! I feel like I was one of her favorites, mainly because I was the only one who had the guts to argue with her and defend my ideas. Yep, I’m cool. B)
30-minute break. Next subject: Teaching of Literature.
This was the subject that I really felt like I was going to flunk…
Basically, this subject teaches us how to teach. We already had subjects like this; Teaching of Speaking, Teaching of Listening and Reading… and now Literature. We study different forms of literature and how to effectively teach these literary pieces.
Our professor is also young and he dresses so fly… so fashionista. He’s gay. But we don’t mind. He’s a smart homo. We learned a lot from him.
What made me think I was going to fail this subject was because of the group works. After every lesson, he tells us to group ourselves into three and pass a piece of paper with our names in it. The last group to pass will be the first group to perform. And what will we perform? Impromptu demo teaching, impromptu book reports, play presentations. So the first group to perform is the most likely to be unprepared. And guess who that group always was? Us.
And what could I do? I think I have the longest surname in the class, T-O-R-D-E-C-I-L-L-A-S, a staggering ELEVEN letters! So by the time we finished writing our names on the paper, all the other groups already passed theirs. This went on for like three times.
So my group mates and I came up with a plan. We were sick of always being first so we thought of preparing a pad with our names in it so that in our final exam (which is a play), we would be the last.
The day of our play came, and we had the most devilish smiles than anyone in the class. At last, we would taste the feeling of being last. The professor called for the papers so we searched for ours… It was not with me, nor in my bag or notes. It was not with my other group mate either. It was not with the other too. We went in panic searching for that cursed piece of ass wipe. We found nothing. So we had no other choice but to perform first.
Luckily, we came prepared for our play. I would say we had the best play than most of the class. The play saved the day. Our day.
And after that, while slumped to my seat, I noticed something under my shoe. I looked and then I saw our beloved piece of paper, stuck under my shoe by a gum I just chewed. My group mates saw it and we just broke into laughter, relieved that the hell was over. Lesson learned: never chew gum before a performance. XD
30-minute lunch break. Next subject: Politics and Governance.
I never liked politics ever since. I know people should have someone to lead them, but somehow I feel like leaders, or those who want to be leaders, just want the spotlight on their faces; they just want the attention and power. That’s how I think. I dunno. Whenever I see someone running for elections in the student government, I start to dislike that person. Maybe because I know he’s not capable. Maybe because I know that he knows he’s not capable but still insists on running just to be popular. Maybe because I know I’m more capable than him and lots of others are more capable than him. Maybe because I’m just the type of guy who doesn’t want to be led on. I don’t want someone to lead me. I want someone to inspire me. I hate politics.
I wanted to understand politics, so I thought enrolling this subject would make me interested in it. But no, my interest remained as dull as it was. It was the most boring subject in my summer classes.
But it was my favorite. Our professor is a partly-senile old fart who spends 10 minutes of our time on discussing the lesson and 50 minutes on discussing his personal life: his niece becoming the bar topnotcher, his plans on running for councilor in Masbate on 2010, his life as a seminarian, and other sorts of things.
The 50 minute part was my favorite part. This was the time that I’m able to get to sleep a lot. Believe me, half of the class do this. We seemed to listen to his stories on the first week of the class. But the following weeks, he still kept on telling those stories. We were like children told of bedtime stories, lulling us to sleep. And it really lulled us to sleep, everyday. I loved that part.
What I also loved about this professor was that he was so easy to be fooled. He easily forgets what he gave us for exam. Like when we are taking our final exams and someone someone would ask, “Sir, what is jus sanguini again?” He would gladly answer it aloud, completely forgetting that it was the question for the essay part in our exam! He’s 60 years old. I personally believe he needs to retire from work now.
We spend 10 minutes on relevant matter, 50 minutes on irrelevant, and the remaining 1 and a half hour we spend outside the classroom; he dismisses so early. This is the class’ favorite part. Whenever he says, “Dismiss na tayo,” every sleeping body in the room would automatically rise altogether like zombies then step out of the classroom.
Another good thing, he never gives failing grades. Leave an exam half-answered, and you would still get a very high grade. Every student’s heaven.
At last, now I’m enjoying my vacation; watching DVDs, reading books, surfing the net. I kept on thinking that that summer was a torture to me, but now I realized that I’m still lucky to have at least a 3 week vacation from school because when I graduate and have a job, there would be no more summer vacations for me, only holidays, company outings, and sick leaves.
Lucky me.
